‘Timmy, ask Sandra if I’m gay.’ Suddenly I felt very stupid. Of course he wasn’t gay. He actually had a well-established reputation as a ladie...��s man. God, I found myself hoping desperately that he wouldn’t be mad at me… ‘I’m sorry, man…I just…never had a guy touch my…touch me before.’ His face looked up into mine, just inches away. He slipped his hand down over my scrotum, cupping my balls. ‘Tim, you’re white as a sheet. You want me to stop? I’ll stop, Timmy.’ His hand felt exquisite on my. I loved this room almost as much as I loved her. The back wall was lined with mirrors. They dominated the studio from corner to corner, but were little more than a facade for the long, walk-in closet, which housed my mother's private collection. Very few people even knew it was there, mainly because it contained the pieces she never intended to sell.Mum's design sense leaned towards the strange and the fantastique. She often drew her inspiration from the excesses of fashion history - La Belle. More

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